


Breathless

by Bittercape (bittercape)



Series: Flufftober drabbles [15]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Death and Resurrection, M/M, Triple Drabble, oops I got angst in my fluff again, spoilers for 174, there's hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27044491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittercape/pseuds/Bittercape
Summary: Flufftober day 15: Breathless
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Series: Flufftober drabbles [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948333
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37
Collections: A Wilde Ride October Collection





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Spoilers for 174 ahoy  
> 2\. Oops I forgot to post yesterday, so this is a day late.  
> 3\. And oops, I got angst in my fluff again. Sorry about that, but so it goes.

The thing about dying isn’t so much the pain, Oscar thinks. It’s a strange feeling, looking down at his own body, impaled through the chest. It gives him a feeling like breath hitching, like being punched in the midriff, like his lungs are collapsing. Which they have, he supposes, not that he has lungs anymore. He watches as Zolf sees him and shows all his emotions on his face, deep as the oceans and vast as the sky and brief like a bolt of lightning, until he grasps control by the balls and looks impassive again, or as close to it as one could expect. 

Oscar turns away then, and is somewhere else. Somewhere in between, where everything is soft and gentle, where he doesn’t have to worry about anything, not even the world ending.

“It’s not your time yet.”

He recognises the voice and at the same time doesn’t, but there is no time to think about it before he’s wrenched back to the snow and the blood and the pain, and there are strange faces staring down at him and he can’t breathe he can’t breathe _he can’t breathe_ \- and then there is Zolf, and his big warm hands and his familiar stark healing spells, clean and sharp and bright, and the panic recedes. He can draw breath. He can feel his body. The sky is dark and the stars are bright above him, and he is in the world again. 

“What,” Oscar says, and his voice is a far cry from the smooth, honed weapon of a bard, but it’s his voice nonetheless. “What the fuck?”

Oscar hasn’t heard Zolf laugh in months, not since he tripped and fell into the cell back at the inn, but he laughs now. High and panicky, and so, so relieved.


End file.
